Their Hero
by CandyAngel11
Summary: Thirteen years ago, James and Lily Potter sent the brother to the BoyWhoLived, Harry, to be raised by his aunt who in turn sent him to an orphanage where he ran away at age of 2. Now he's been found and is a total gangster....Wait, what?
1. A Real HeroGuy

* * *

"Come on Andy!" yelled a young teen as he sprinted down the house lined street. He was dressed in light clothes that were draped over his brown skin, perfect for the summer weather, with a billed cap adorning his head and a cricket bat clutched in his hand. A few yards behind him a similarly equipped heavier boy about the same age struggled to keep up.

"Wait-wait up!" the heavier teen, Andy, gasped. His companion gradually slowed before finally coming to a stop underneath a lit streetlight

"Come on Andy," he repeated, looking at his watch. "You know I told my mom I was staying at your house. If we hurry we can just make it there before your mom gets home." He anxiously began to jog in place. "Let's _go_."

Having finally caught his breath, Andy began to walk into one of the polished house's front yard. "If I can recall correctly, Bobby, you had no worries about the time at the park." He hesitantly opened the gate to the house's back yard, ducked his head in, then waved the lighter boy over. "You remember, when I wanted to head back and you were to preoccupied with those Collins' girls." He quickly led the other boy through the yard then, despite his size, easily scaled the fence into another yard.

He chuckled as his friend landed next to him. "A classic Bobby move, huh?" He once again led them forward and into another street.

Bobby smiled back, his white teeth seeming to glow in the darkness. "You know me better than anyone else, you know." He then looked around then met Andy's eyes, seeming to just realize where they were. "What are we doing?"

Andy sped up then stopped just before a black iron gate. "Taking a shortcut of course."

Bobby looked at the various stones jutting out from the gated field. "A graveyard? You can't be serious."

Andy grasped the fence and carefully pulled himself over. "I'm _dead_ serious," he chuckled.

Bobby rolled his eyes as he followed suit. "That's not funny at all. Haven't you ever seen a zombie movie? It always starts with a bloody shortcut through a graveyard."

He warily avoided the gravestones as they ventured through. " Then something pops out out of nowhere, an obvious sign that something is happening, but everyone ignores it." He stopped and jumped up onto a bench, much to the amusement of a laughing Andy. "And you know who's always the first to die in those movies? Yeah. The black guy."

Bobby looked around and sighed as if in relief. "Good thing neither of us are black, huh?" He then looked at the back of his dark hand and comically widened his eyes in surprise. "OH! Wait!"

"Come off it, Bobby!" Andy, now laughing loudly, exclaimed. "If you keep it going we will be late and then you'll really have something to be scared of. You know how your mom gets when she's mad."

"Yeah, yeah." Bobby jumped down and the two set out at a comfortable jog.

"But, seriously," he continued after a moment. "It is a perfect set up isn't it? Two rowdy teenagers, alone at night in a graveyard, breaking the rules. A perfect cliché. It's almost as if we're asking to get eaten. The only way it could be worse is if we were sluts."

"I wouldn't be so calm then if I were you," Andy huffed.

Bobby suddenly veered off course, ignoring the slight jab. He stopped in a circular clearing and pointed to the old manor in view. "That would be the base of the operation, where the virus was first created and spread."

He then walked up to a mausoleum that made up part of the circle's side and hid behind a stone column. "And this would be a perfect place for the Big Bad to hide out until the hero passes."

"The 'Big Bad'?" Andy walked up to the other side.

"Yeah, the Big Bad." He spoke as if it were obvious. "You know what I'm talking about. Usually it's the first victim of the prototype of the virus. Got _too _super powered or _too_ super smart. Although sometimes it's just some random zombie."

He poked his head around and shrugged. "Either way it's the huge zombie that's been taking almost everyone out and that seems impossible to kill. Anyway, the rugged hero just passes along with his sidekick after some big battle."

He ducked back behind the column. "He thinks the worst is over and his heading back to his home or his lady friend, his guard completely down as he passes the seemingly innocent shadowy mausoleum. Then when he does..." Bobby suddenly spun around the column and vaulted himself onto his friend's back, laughing.

"And that's when the hero bashes the bastard's head in!" Andy replied as he dumped the other teen off and playfully raised his cricket bat. Bobby quickly rolled to the side and retrieved his bat where he had dropped it during the attack. He jumped to his feet and the two stood, bats raised as if they were swords.

"Ha!" Bobby lunged and easily hit the larger boy in the stomach. He shot back and cockily raised his free hand in the air.

In retaliation Andy moved with surprising speed and struck the side of his opponent's hip sending him sprawling. Luckily, Bobby caught himself on a tombstone before his head hit any of the granite forms.

"Whoa! I'm sorry Bobby!" Andy nervously chuckled. "I was trying to kick your ass, not give you a concussion."

Bobby waved off the apology. "No problem. My buddy here, um." He wiped the grime off the tombstone he had fallen into. "..Mr. Thomas Riddle saved me."

He looked at his fallen blue hat in the dirt. "That was my favorite hat, though, and for that you must pay."

He once again jumped the bigger teen, successfully knocking the other's own yellow hat off. The two struggled for a moment before Bobby suddenly stopped.

"Did someone light a fire in there?"

The two looked to the old manor where the tell-tale orange glow could be seen in one of the windows.

"No one's lived there in ages, some bum must have broken in or something."

"Or maybe, it's the creators of the virus I was talking about," Bobby added mockingly.

"You know you watch too many movies, right?"

"Hey!" Bobby actually seemed insulted by this and lightly pushed the other boy. "If I watch too many movies then you read too many books."

"What?"

"You heard me. All those books are basically the same plot with different names."

Andy gave the shorter teen a annoyed look. "Weren't you the one that just explained the plot of every zombie movie in existence? There's no originality in movies anymore."

"How about all those stupid adventure books you've read? There's always a poor young boy who grows up a normal life before discovering something _amazing_ about himself. He's a prince! He's the only one who can defeat the Big Bad of his world! He's a bloody elf! He was born a women!"

"Come on!" Andy snorted.

"I'm not done! Then some old guy comes and whisk him away to foreign lands where he trains and turns into a typical superhero." He raised a wiry arm and mockingly flexed. "Then, once he's stronger than everyone else, which usually seems to take about a few days, he goes off to kill the villain who most likely killed or is the hero's last living relative. An epic battle ensues where the hero plays fair despite whatever his rival may pull and in the end wins and goes on to live happily-ever-after."

By this time Bobby was pacing, his irritation growing with every word.

"And of course the hero needs his fair, fuckin maiden. She's either the humble but slightly pretty girl that the hero grew up with, but never noticed until she hit puberty or she's that quiet girl on the dark side that secretly yearns to help the light and falls for the hero. It's the same bloody thing all the time! I'm sick of it!"

"..."

"..."

"Better now?"

Bobby sighed and absently ran a hand over his shirt. "Yeah, I just had to get that out I suppose."

"Well, I suppose your right." Andy patted his friend on the shoulder. "But you have heard of a movie called Star Wars, right?"

"Damn," Bobby chuckled. "Call it a draw?"

"Draw."

"It's just that..." Bobby leaned against a statue with an annoyed sigh. "I just want a 'hero' that acts normal. Why won't one do the smart thing and kick the villain when he's down? Or better yet, just grab a knife and stab him in the back when he's not looking? What's the point of being so noble? Your ridding the world of this great evil, there's no need to act like even more of a good guy. And there's always an easier way than what they go for."

He smiled and put on a confused face. "And why go for the 'humble-but-cute-in-her-own-way-with-a-great-personality-who-constantly-needs-saving-girl' or the 'angsty-dark-side-girl-who won't-stop-crying-on-my-damn-shoulder-and-also-constantly-needs-saving-despite-that-fiery-attitude'?" He smirked. "I want my hero to go for that 'slightly-arrogant-and-bitchy-but-so bloody-gorgeous-that-you-can-ignore-what-she's-saying-and-can-save-her-own-arse-women'. If I was a hero thats who I'd try to bag. I may sound a bit shallow, but still."

Andy laughed. "I like the sound of that." He glanced back to the manor. "So you think that_ is _the base?"

Bobby grinned. "Maybe."

"I guess we better watch our backs then-what the hell!" A emerald light suddenly flashed followed by a distant thump in the window. The sound of both cricket bats and Bobby's body as he slipped off the statue in surprise hitting the ground followed and echoed across the field.

"Shit!"

The two held their breath. Bobby slowly raised himself to a crouch and both unconsciously moved to block their forms behind the closest tombstones. Bobby's forehead pressed against the granite of the stone and his eyes squeezed shut. His shaking fingers seemed to trace the aged word 'Riddle' on their own. His breath started to come out in harsh gasp as the blood started to slowly drain from his head. Something wasn't right.

Nearby, Andy hesitantly maneuvered himself so he could watch as the light of the fire eventually dimmed.

"You remember that sign I was talking about?" Bobby hoarsely whispered.

Andy swallowed. "Yeah."

Even with distance both sets of young ears caught the sound of a door opening and being slammed shut.

Andy whispered, "I think we're late."

"Race you to your house?"

Both boys shot off, their cricket bats and favorite hats forgotten in the dirt.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a lush apartment in South Kensington, a fourteen-year old boy slowly opened his eyes. He raised himself up on his elbows, then rubbed his green eyes before casually wiping the line of drool away from his chin. His eyes lazily wandered around his dark room before settling on the objects resting on his dresser.

He gave an unfocused glare. "No more of you before bed," he slurred as he waved his finger at the empty bottle of Coke and Cheeto bag. His mission completed, he gave a rewarding yawn. He fell back asleep before his messy black hair hit the pillow.

* * *

Author's notes:

Eh...well, there you go. I'm not really taking this fic too seriously so expect it to be sloppy sometimes, changing from serious to comedy (which I'm not very skilled at anyway), and updates to be random.

I'm really just doing this for fun and something to occupy me while I have writer's block on any other stories I might post.


	2. Harrison Brown

"James Potter stared blankly at the cards in his hands. Although he was surrounded by friends, his heart was full of sorrow and grief. For fourteen years ago to that very day his youngest son, Harry James Potter, was born. He had been Irish twins with his brother, Merlin Godric Phoenix Jesus Elizabeth Miranda Banana Fanna Potter nay Gryffindor the third, but was unfortunately ignored."

"His son's troubles then grew when the Potter family was attacked by Lord Voldermort. James had fought valiantly but was stunned along with his wife, Lily."

"Lily actually still had a bit of pregnancy weight on her then, despite the fact that their second child had been born _months_ before. It was actually quite fun to trace the nasty looking stretch marks, although it did annoy the hell out of the quick tempered women. And boy was she quick tempered! Why, just the other day-"

"Does he always narrate his life out loud like this?" Nymphadora Tonks reached over and plucked the cards from the oblivious James' hands. She put them in the deck before passing it Remus Lupin who was seated next to her.

Across from her, Sirius Black shrugged. "Not normally, usually just on Harry's birthday, Hallow's Eve and May sixth."

"May sixth?"

"We're not quite sure ourselves." Having finished shuffling, Remus dealt out the cards.

Playing cards every Sunday had been a tradition since the the three men had been in Hogwarts. When James inherited his manor in Godric's Hollow their pattern didn't change, except for a extra member. Nymphadora, or Tonks, having finished auror training, had begun to join them. She took the place of ...well, she took their forth chair.

"James didn't think his wife was a _total_ bitch of course. But there were times he just wanted to-"

"That's sad," Tonks frowned. She grabbed a nut from the bowl on the table, tossed it in the air, then accidentally hit her eye attempting to catch it.

"Why should she care if he had a collection of toe nails? Everybody has their own hobbies. James just-"

"I know," Sirius sighed. "James has always been a little off, there's no doubt about that, but ever since Harry went missing from the orphanage that Lily's sister dumped him in he's just gotten worse. It's a pity." He sighed again and scratched his head. "Do you have any queens?"

* * *

"I've got a four-of-a-kind. Queens." Harrison Brown smirked as he placed his cards on the dining table and looked expectantly at the friends surrounding him. The plump girl across from him pouted childishly as she threw down the cards as did the lean boy to his left. The one to his right, however, angrily stood up, knocking his chair over in the process,

"This is bull, Harry, and you know it! There's no way you can win this many bloody times!" He looked to the other two. "Joseph, Izzy, he has to be cheating!"

Joseph's pout turned into an amused smile. "Come on, John. You know as well as I do that Harry isn't cheating. You frisked him for cards six times already!"

"I've never felt so violated," Harry added, inciting laughter from the other two seated players.

"The point is," 'Izzy' interrupted, "Harry hasn't been cheating. He's just a lucky bastard."

"Lucky?" Harry held his hand to his chest in false offense. "My dear Isabella, luck has nothing to do with it. I am simply a bloody amazing poker player."

"Amazing my arse," spat John. He picked up the fallen chair and sat. His brown eyes bore into Harry's green. "One more game. You verses me." He pushed his towers of chips into the center of the table. "All or nothing."

Harry started back, his face a mixture of confusion and amusement. Finally he shrugged and copied the brown-eyed boy's actions. "Fine."

Isabella dealt the cards, her eyes twinkling all the while. Harry grabbed his two cards, purposely acting over-protective as he held them tightly to his chest. Joseph snickered as he came up behind him, reached over his shoulder and tried to pry his hands away so he could see.

"Will you two stop playing around for one minute?" John snapped.

Isabella had dealt out four cards by that time. Harry bit his tongue as her hand returned to the deck. _'Jack of diamonds, jack of diamonds, jack of diamonds...'_

She flipped the last card over; a jack of diamonds. _'Yes!' _Harry unconsciously let out the breath he was holding. He looked up to meet John's eyes.

John sneered.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

John continued to sneer.

Harry rubbed his nose.

John glared.

Harry absently yawned and scratched his shoulder.

John glared _and_ sneered.

Harry looked at the silver watch on his wrist.

"You two can show your cards anytime now."

John turned over his cards. "Two pair. Jacks and tens."

Harry nodded and slapped his cards on the table, before calmly turning them over. "Royal Flush. Diamonds."

John bit his tongue. "You know what? Screw you guys, I'm going home." John's face turned an interesting shade of purple as he stood up, walked to the front door of Joseph's house and stormed out, slamming the door once outside.

The three friends sat in silence for a moment, before Isabella gave out a small giggle which led to them all laughing uproariously. They all got up and walked to the living area, plopping themselves on the couches. To one side of them a window took up the wall, revealing the bustling streets of London below.

"Why do we keep him around?" Harry asked.

"Constant entertainment," Joseph retorted. Harry laughed despite the tutting of Isabella, who felt a bit bad for the bad-tempered boy.

"Lighten up, Izzy," Harry wiggled in the leather seat, causing it to make inappropriate noises. Isabella made a disgusted face, although the corners of her mouth lifted against her will.

"You guys are bad influences." She looked at the clock hanging on the wall. "Which is exactly why I need to get home. My mother doesn't like me staying over here with 'those rufllings' too late."

She stood up and gave each of them a hug. "I'll see you two at the game." She ruffled Harry's already messy hair. "Score a goal for me if I don't see you before it starts." She gave Joseph a quick kiss. "And you better stop a couple for me."

"Yes ma'am."

Once she was out Harry started to fiddle with his collar. "She wants me."

Joseph smiled and rolled his eyes. With one last shake of Harry's collar a handful of cards fell out and onto the Persian rug.

"Nice job slipping those to me by the way."

Joseph smiled smugly as he moved to help pick the cards up. "Thanks, I was wondering how to do that without slipping them under the table. But, how about Bella dealing that jack of diamonds? How lucky can a guy get?"

"I know, I was practically chanting that card in my head." He looked at the clock. "Can I just stay here tonight. My uniform is already with coach. I can just stay in these clothes till the game."

Joseph nodded, "Yeah, sure. My parents won't mind."

"Alright." Harry peeked into the dining room. "I'll pick up the cards, then call Cristina."

Joseph gave a dreamy smile, "Mmm, Cristina."

Harry scrunched up his nose, "That's wrong on so many levels. One-you have a Izzy and, although she's obviously in love with me, she's still your girlfriend. Two-Cristina is twenty-years old and way too cool for you. And three- she's my sister. Put your tongue back in your mouth."

Joseph shrugged, "A guy can dream."

"That's sick."

Harry picked up the cards from the table as Joseph gathered the chips. He lazily glanced the bottom of the deck, then after a second looked again. It was the jack of diamonds. He stared at it, then looked to where the cards Isabella had dealt still were. In the place of the jack of diamonds that had made him win there was a three of spades. He looked at the deck.

Jack of diamonds.

He looked at the dealt cards.

Three of spades.

Jack of diamonds.

Three of spades.

He blinked and looked again.

Same thing.

Joseph poked him in the back the head. Harry rubbed it, shrugged, and then continued picking them up.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Scotland, an aging headmaster sat at his desk. To any average observer, the office would be full of several jibblish books, useless trinkets and an empty bird perch at the corner of a cluttered desk with bland paintings of empty chairs lining the wall.

However, to certain people, people with abilities similar to the old man, though most to a lesser extent, the office was full of ancient text, some of the most expensive dark detectors on the market, one of the rarest creatures in their world and the walls were lined with moving portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses.

"Albus!"

The man started but did not look up from the papers on his desk. "Come in."

The sound of the door opening was heard, although if the Albus Dumbledore were to look up, he would see no one.

"Headmaster, I have something very interesting for you."

At this the headmaster looked up and once realizing the person was probably hiding, looked mischievously at the edge of his desk. "Interesting, hmm?"

"Yes, but I may need a little help."

Albus chuckled, "Dear Minnie, while I do appreciate your attempt to, uhem, relieve my stress, I'll have to decline. I just have so many records to go through. But, maybe _tonight_..."

A pair of tiny hands grasping the edge of his desk interrupted him. The old man's eyes widened as a small man managed to lift himself into the seat opposite him.

"Oh! Professor Flitwick!... Has anyone ever told you that your voice has a slightly feminine tone?"

The Charms Professor huffed. "I'm just going to ignore this incident altogether, Albus. Now as I was saying, I have something for you."

He placed a stack of papers, all tied together with a piece of string, on the desk. Albus tugged at the string and once it fell away the stack enlarged to about three times its previous size, spilling onto his desk. He picked out random paper.

"A grade report of one Brown, Harrison James?"

Flitwick nodded. "Look at the pictures, Albus."

He found a pile and riffled through them. A black-haired toddler being held by a girl of about ten with similar hair. Various pictures of a boy posing with muggle sporting equipment and some of them catching him in the action of using them. Many of them had the boy with a another brunette boy about the same age and, as the boys aged, a pretty blond girl frequently appearing.

Albus finally found himself holding two. One picture was taken at an odd angle. It was taken of a mirror. The boy was once again in it, this time the age of about a fourth or fifth year. In his reflection he was holding a blood soaked towel to his knee, but was grinning widely. In the mirror, the ebony haired girl who was taking the picture was also smiling.

"Who is this girl?"

"I'm not quite sure."

Albus nodded and looked at the last. The picture wasn't nearly as good as the others, which he guessed had been taken by mainly one person. The picture was also of the boy and the girl. They were laying in the grass, their arms seemingly slung around each other's shoulders in a friendly manner. The boy's face took up most of the photo.

Albus' eyes shot from the boy's green eyes, to his messy black hair, and finally to the oddly shaped scar on his forehead.

"Harry..."

* * *

"Gooooooooooal!"

Harry grinned as the crowd around him screamed in approval. His game already done, he had climbed to the top of the stadium in boredom. Now the pitch was filled with players, half in red, half in green. Although you could barely even see the ball from his point, the crowd around him paid no mind and were as rambunctious as the ones with seats basically on the pitch.

Harry sat down and watched as best as he could for a moment, before a young women walking down from above caught his attention. He recognized her as a higher year from his school, but barely recognized that fact as he watched her pretty legs which were clothed in a skirt that was way too short for someone of her height.

_'A little wind would be just perfect right now. Come on, wind...wind, wind, wind...'_

A barely noticeable gust of wind hit the back of his neck, before slowly picking up to get strong enough to lift the skirt higher than it already was. Harry grinned. He was such a lucky bastard.

Ring!

Harry started as his phone began its obnoxious ring tone, and quickly answered it.

"Yeah?"

"Where the bloody hell are you?!"

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear as the screeching continued. "Cristina?"

"Where are you, Harry?"

He began to make his way down. "I'm still at the futbol pitch. What's wrong?"

"Just meet me in the front, alright?"

"Fine." Harry pocketed the phone and began to go faster, easily hopping from row to row. Cristina freaking out was pretty odd. She herself admitted she was simply a spoiled brat and as long as she had what she wanted, which she usually did, she was just peachy. And even when she did go crazy, it was on their dad, never on him...unless he replaced her face cleanser with toothpaste or something of that sort, which he didn't...or not that day at least.

When he finally made it out of the stadium and into the parking lot, Cristina's fashionable silver car was already there. He jogged over and looked through the passenger side window.

"Hi," he said hesitantly.

She turned towards him from behind the wheel. Harry couldn't tell if she was glaring or not because of the large sunglasses covering her blue eyes, so he smiled tentatively.

She whipped of her glasses. She was glaring. "Get in."

He gave a quick desperate look across the parking lot. Joseph and Isabella had already gone for their date and all his other teammates were still in the stadium. Harry sighed and climbed in.

As soon as his door closed, his sister hit the gas. She stayed silent as she turned onto the street and headed in the direction of her flat, where Harry was also staying.

After a few minutes Harry began to calm down. _'She's not yelling at me...Maybe someone else made __her mad right before she called me?' _He nodded and fully relaxed, moving to put his tired feet up on the dashboard.

"Get your muddy shoes off of that!" Cristina snapped. His feet fell down with a thump.

_'Alright...I guess she is mad at me. But, what did I do?'_

As she parked the car outside her building she turned to him. "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he opened his door. "No."

She sighed as she got out and looked over the top of the car at him. "Are you sure? No part-time job you may be in?"

_'A job?' "_No".

She nodded, "Fine then, come on."

Harry followed up the stairs, stopping at her flat's front door. They stepped in and as she went to hang up her trendy leather jacket, Harry went to the living quarters. He blinked as he entered the white-themed room and sat on the couch. A moment later she joined him, a letter clutched in her hand.

"Here," she said thrusting it at him.

He looked at it. It was addressed to one Harry Potter in the guest bedroom of Mona flat number 4, South Kensington, London.

Cristina stared at him as if waiting for him to say something.

"Um...that's my room."

She rolled her eyes, "I realize that, Harry." She continued to stare.

"Uh...that's oddly specific, huh?"

She rolled her eyes once again and sighed. "Look, yesterday, a few hours after you left for Joseph's, an old man came by here looking for someone named Harry. He had a long white beard, and was wearing a _dress_."

"A dress?"

Cristina nodded, "A dress. Covered in stars. He looked like a druggie, so I just told him he got the wrong address. He apologized and left. This morning he came back, told me this _was_ the right address, and told me to deliver this letter to you."

"But, this is addressed to Harry _Potter_."

"Exactly."

Harry chewed his lip, trying to figure out what his sister was getting at. _'Some crazy druggie in a dress shows up asking for Harry Potter. A druggie asking for Harry Potter. Potter. Oh, wait! __**Pot**__ter!'_

"You think I'm a drug dealer!" Harry yelled triumphantly. Cristina nodded frantically.

Harry snorted, "What would I need to deal drugs for?"

Cristina glared and shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe you have some pregnant girlfriend running around? Or maybe you adopted some random kid you saw and wanted to keep her safe?"

"I'm fourteen!"

"What's that matter?!"

"I'm _fourteen_!"

"You look older!" She shot back defensively.

"But, I'm _not_."

She huffed, "Fine, you don't have a child or a knocked up girlfriend. But, who is Harry Potter and who was that old man?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know about the old man, but...Potter...Despite that sounding like a horrible codename, it rings a bell...What was my name before Mum and Dad adopted me?"

She shook her head, "I was too distressed over having a little brother to remember."

"That warms my heart."

"I'm just kidding."

"No, your not."

"Well I got over it, then."

Harry bit his lip, "Where are the adoption papers?"

"There probably over at dad's house. Didn't he give you a key?"

"No. He thought I would throw wild parties while he was out on his 'business trip'."

Cristina smirked, "Where ever could he get that idea?"

"It was one time!"

"..."

"Alright, it was a couple of times, but that's not the point." He raised the letter up. "This may be about me. How are we supposed to find out?"

"You could start with opening the letter."


	3. Orphanage

Harry blinked as if the thought hadn't occurred to him, then quickly tore open the letter. An old fashioned piece of parchment fell out. Harry picked it up and read aloud.

"Dear Mr. Potter,"

"This letter has been waiting to finally be in your hands. You are special Harry, you are a wizard," Cristina snorted.

"About fourteen years ago you were born, and a few months before that your biological brother. Destiny had plans for the two of you, for a little over a year later, your home was attacked. A powerful, dark wizard, Lord Voldermort, broke into your home, knocked out your parents, and cast the killing curse on your brother. Despite there being no known block of this curse, it rebounded off of him, leaving a distinguished magical mark upon his forehead, and shot back to the Dark Lord, ridding him of his body. The escaping magic tore the room apart, which resulted in a piece of wood hitting your head, leaving an oddly shaped scar."

Harry stopped and traced the lightening shaped scar on his forehead that was partly hidden by his fringe.

"Your parents needed to focus as much attention as they could on your brother, who is now a hero in our world. You were sent to live with your aunt and uncle. You were to be brought back into our world once you reached eleven, the age requirement of the wizarding school, Hogwarts, which you will soon attend. However, our plans were dashed when you were abandoned at an orphanage and it was reported that you ran away. We've just recently found you. Enclosed with this letter is your acceptance letter to Hogwarts. As you opened this wards were triggered, tomorrow we will send a professor to help you prepare."

"Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, yadda, yadda, yadda..." Harry handed the letter to his sister, who was staring at him blankly.

He coughed nervously, "That was...rather blunt."

"Yeah."

Harry fiddled with the edge of his black and gold jersey, "Look, this guy is obviously crazy, but I think he knew who I was. It's confusing the hell out of me." He sighed. "Is there any way to get a look at those adoption papers?"

Cristina thought for a moment, twisting the ends of her black hair. She suddenly stood and walked into the entrance hallway. She came back with her keys.

"I remember the orphanage we found you in. Saint Mary's, in Surrey." She tossed him the keys which he easily snatched out of the air. "I'll even let you drive."

* * *

According to his mother, Dudley Dursely was a growing boy. Perhaps a bit big boned, but the baby fat that covered his body would soon drift off with her Diddykum's manhood. However, if you were to ask anyone else about the teen you would get slightly different remarks:

"He bleeds bacon grease."

"His belly button must have an echo."

And, of course, the ever popular: "Ew! You mean that tub of lard?"

Dudley paid these 'little freaks' no mind, however, and went about his life as he wanted. Despite his large weight, Dudley was a championship boxer. He practiced daily on the kids in his neighborhood and on weekends would occasionally even have his mum drive him to the gym. Her and his dad's pride was continuously swelling and in a fit of inspiration they decided that a formal picture of their son was needed as he reached his maturity.

Which is why we find Dudley Dursely walking down the street, to where he would meet the photographer and his parents at the small studio in the local grocer. His thin, blond hair was flat against his head, his feet were stuffed into brown loafers, and his chunky body was encased in a brand new plaid, yellow and red suit.

He stopped at the curb, across from the store and followed behind the crossing crowd. Halfway across the road his foot fell on something soft and a plastic crinkle reached his ear.

_'Could it be?'_

His six chins jiggled as he looked down. He slowly lifted his foot to reveal a plastic wrapper surrounding the remains of golden brown bread and a white cream.

"A Twinkie!"

He reached down, oblivious to the fast approaching silver Lexus. It wasn't until it was too late that he realized that he could have simply bought a whole case of Twinkies in the grocery store.

* * *

Harry gripped the wheel as he side bumped into the large object occupying the street.

_'Who leaves furniture in the middle of the road like that?'_

Cristina looked up from her bare feet, which were resting on the dashboard as she painted her toenails. "Did you just hit something?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you just _hit_ something?"

"When?"

"Just now," she huffed.

"Right now?"

"Harry!"

He sighed, "I'm sure I didn't scratch the car."

"You're sure?"

"_Yes_."

She gave him a suspicious glare, "It better not have." The young women resumed painting. "What was it, anyway?"

Harry looked into the rear view mirror where the object could still be seen. "It looks like a living chair." He made out the red and yellow fabric. "It's pretty tacky, though. I did someone favor."

"Good job," Cristina mumbled absently.

The siblings fell silent as they continued down the road. Harry glanced at the map laid out between them and tensed up as he realized they were nearly there. He still wasn't sure why they were going.

Despite what most people would think, he never really thought about his birth parents. He was adopted when he was almost two years old so he didn't have any memories of his first family. And, except for a few moments when he was younger and had gotten in trouble and was wishing to run away to live with them, he never wanted to make any.

Harry glanced at Cristina who had finished with her toe nails and was reading a magazine.

He had always been happy with his family. From what he could remember, their mum was a wonderful women who died painlessly in a wayward liposuction procedure when he was seven.

Although his father was always on 'business' trips with his secretaries he wasn't a bad guy. Not the best father figure, of course, but a pretty cool guy.

Cristina had always been a good sister, laidback and nice.

He turned the corner, the car moving smoothly underneath him. And, although it wasn't the most important thing, there _was_ the money. If Harry desired it he could easily live off of his father's money like Cristina did for a good chunk of his life. They'd always been comfortable. Jeffery Brown the third owned a successful insurance agency in the Kensington area. Harry's father was serious about his work, even taking his vacation time to sail to Spain with his secretary ('Kristy,' Harry thought this one's name was) to work on a '_very important_' deal, which left Harry spending the rest of his summer with his sis-

"YO, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want! So tell me what you want, want you really really want. I'll tell ya-"

"Cristina!" Harry reached over a smacked the radio, causing the tape to stop. Cristina's mouth shut and she looked at Harry curiously.

"What?"

"Do you mind?"

"Mind what?"

_'I was having a self discovering inner monologue' _

He sighed, "I'm trying to drive, here."

"Well it's my car, I can listen to what I want."

"But _I'm_ driving it. Radio is driver's choice."

"No, it's _owner's_ choice."

"You don't even own this car. Dad does."

"But he gave it to me," she grinned and pointed to herself.

"Fine," Harry groaned.

"Would it make you feel better if I let you sing with me?"

"..."

"..."

"...I'll pass," he mumbled.

She patted his arm. "Alright then." She played the tape again.

"Yo, I'll tell you what I want what I really really want!"

"So tell me what you want, what you really really want."

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!"

"So tell me what you want, what you really really want."

"I wanna-huh-I wanna-huh-I-"

The red bricks of the Saint Mary's Orphanage loomed ahead.

"Really really really wanna zigazig ahhh!"

* * *

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets as he nervously shuffled from foot to foot. Getting into the orphanage had been eerily easy. The gates were unlocked, no one was in the front yard, and the large, old front doors were ajar. He and his sister had walked in without any interference and now they were standing in a hall, watching the chaos.

Harry ducked as a plate soared toward his head, obviously being used like a frisbee. Just as it shattered on the door behind him both he and Cristina jumped to side, avoiding a mattress that had slid down the stairs carrying three young boys, who jumped off as they stopped sliding and began to push it back up. Harry eyes went from them to a little girl who was standing on the banister.

"Whoa!" he pointed to the girl's hands, which had an end of the bedsheets behind her in each. "That does _not_ work," he warned walking forward until he was below her, skirting around the running kids. "Just walk away."

The girl shrugged and hopped back to the landing, throwing the bed sheet over the rails in the process. Harry sighed in relief as he turned back around, only to be tripped by two girls around eight fighting over a jump rope. He fell on the side of his face, hitting the his right eye. He groaned and turned over onto his back, just to have his vision obscured by whiteness.

_'Did I just die?'_

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry shook his head causing the sheet to fall off of half of his face. Cristina was leaned over him, staring curiously.

"I'm just peachy."

She reached down and grasped his hand, preparing to pull him up when a biker gang of toddlers on tricycles went speeding around the corner behind her.

"Look out!"

Harry's warning came too late, however, and the handle of one of the bikes hit the back of her knee causing it to fall forward and into Harry's stomach.

"Oof!"

Both laid there on the ground, slightly scared of getting back up. Half of Harry's vision was still white...and was that...yellow?

"Ugh!" His torso shot up, throwing the sheet from him to Cristina. Her arm waved about in surprise, managing to hit Harry in the same eye he fell on.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"May I help you?"

Both looked up to see the hall devoid of children and a nun standing above them.

"Oh, thank God," Cristina groaned.

Harry shot her a look and got up, pushing her knee off of his stomach.

"Whose in charge here?"

"Why, Mr. Jensen is, of course. Are you looking to adopt?"

His eyes widened, "I'm fourteen."

"What about your lady over there?" she asked pointing to the slowly rising Cristina.

"That's my sister! She's twenty," he stammered. "That's my sister..."

She shrugged, "Well, only God can judge your relationship, I suppose."

"But-"

"Come along, Mr. Jensen's office is this way."

The siblings followed cautiously, but none of the children seemed to be around, though they could here the occasional shout or laugh from elsewhere in the building. They soon stopped at a door in the back.

"He's right inside. I hope you find someone to your liking."

"We're not a-" Harry sighed as the eccentric women turned the corner. He turned to door and wrapped his hand around the rusted door knob. He looked at his sister.

"Are you sure I should..."

"Go on, Harry. I'll be right behind you."

He nodded and walked in.


	4. Meeting Hagrid

Harry held the doorknob for a split second, then quickly opened it in a fit of courage. Beyond the door was a small room, bare except for the wooden desk in the middle and the aging man at it.

"Uh, hello?"

The bespectacled man looked up, surprised. He stared at the two for a moment then gave a stern glare.

"Children! You know not to come in here when I'm working. Go off to your rooms until supper."

"Uh..." Harry glanced at Cristina, who shrugged back. "We don't live here."

The man sighed. "Are you looking for a home?"

"No, no." The teen moved forward and out of the doorway. "We're fine. You're Mr. Jensen?"

"Why, yes!" Mr. Jensen visible brightened and, as Cristina came into view, ran a hand over his balding hair. "Are you looking to ado-"

"No!" Harry all but yelled. He had had enough awkward incestuous comments in the last five minutes. And coming from a _nun_ no less...

"I'm actually here to ask about my files. You see I came here when I was about one and was adopted a few months later and now somethings come up and I'm kinda confused and so I thought maybe I should-" He winced as a manicured nail poked his spine. "Can I just see my files?"

For a few seconds the old man simply stared at them, but he then stood and walked past into the hallway, motioning for them to follow.

"Now, I can't show you your whole file, you understand? Because you don't have proof of who you are." He yelled back as he led them through the halls, where the children once again roamed. "What is your name, again?"

"I'm Harrison Brown," he took a quick step to the side as a kid gleefully holding up scissors ran past. As he went by Cristina she snatched them up, but he kept running with his hands up, oblivious to its absents.

Jensen continued to lead them through the orphanage, seemingly aimlessly (Harry was positive they went down the same corridor three times) for about ten minutes, until they finally came upon a door with multiple locks.

"Ah! Here we are! I keep all my papers in here for safety. Now where are those keys..."

It took another five minutes for him to find his keys, in which Harry was hit by three water balloons and an egg (partly because Cristina decided to take refuge behind his bigger form, making him take the blunt of the attacks) and Cristina was hit by one water balloon (mainly because Harry got sick of being her hero and quickly ducked when another one headed his way). When he finally found them (in his sock, which Harry thought would feel kinda awkward) the siblings practically shoved him in the room in their quest for shelter.

Harry started once he was safe enough to observe his surroundings. Simply put, the room was a mess. Filing cabinets lined the walls, but papers were literally erupting out of them. If a space wasn't occupied by cabinets it was covered either by a rouge piece of paper or a box filled with what Harry presumed was _more_ paper.

"Now where did I put those records..."

Harry and Cristina groaned.

* * *

An hour later Harry and Cristina were sitting back to back on one of the many boxes, idly watching as Mr. Jensen went through file after file. Both were bored, hungry, tired, and irritable. Obviously, not a good combination.

Harry, being bored, sighed and let his eyes wonder around the small storage room. Unfortunately for his sister, they landed on her hand, which was resting slightly in between and to the side of them. His stomach gave a growl of hunger and he gave a mischievous grin as he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth.

Harry supposed Cristina had been too tired to really care when he had first grabbed her hand, but when he bit it she irritably yanked it away and flung it around blindly, once again hitting his already purpling eye.

"Ow!" Harry scowled and threw his head back, butting the back of hers.

"Gah!"

Both turned and glared at each other, Harry gingerly holding his eye; Cristina caressing her hand.

"You hit me in eye!"

"Maybe it was because you bit me!"

Harry gasped and scrunched up his nose. "I did no such thing."

"I can still see the bite marks!" She shoved her hand into his face.

The teen looked intently at it, then scoffed. "That could have came from anywhere."

"How many things just bite me on the hand?"

He fought the smirk threatening to overcome his face, "I can't keep track of everything that puts its mouth on you."

The young woman glared, then quickly stood, the shift in weight causing Harry to fall into the box.

"Ah!" He lifted his hand that had fallen beneath him and pointed it accusingly at this sister. "You made me get a paper cut."

Cristina sneered at him, but moved forward and pushed him out. Once he was steadily on his feet he turned and reached for the envelope that wore a drop of his blood. He slowly frowned as he read it.

"This is like the letter that was given to you, Cristina."

She moved over to see, and sure enough, except for the address, it was the same.

"Excuse me!" She called over to the old man. He looked up blankly as if he forgot they were there, then hobbled over to them. "When did this letter arrive?"

He took the paper from Harry and peered at it, before shaking his head sadly. "Oh, yes. This arrived a few years ago I believe. Mr. Potter was already gone by then, of course."

"...Where did he go?"

"Umm, ran away about a year after he arrived, possibly two years old," he nodded. "Yes... even picked the lock on this door and took his file with him."

Harry glanced to the door and looked back as if expected the punch line to a joke. "You think a toddler picked the lock of that door, located his file, stole it, then ran away."

"Why yes, he was here one day, then him and all his belongings and his file gone the next."

"Are you sure you didn't, I don't know..._lose_ his file and maybe he was adopted which is why he's gone."

Mr. Jensen pushed his glasses up and glared sternly at the teen. "Now look here Mr. Thomas, I may occasionally forget what day of the week it is, but I know how to run this hospital! Now if this disrespect is going to continue I must ask you and your mother to leave!"

Brother and sister shared a look, then quickly strode out of the room.

* * *

"That man is a bloody idiot!"

"Cristina-"

"No! You can't make everything light-hearted by cracking some joke right now, Harry! This is serious!"

"Alright, but Cristina-" He tightened his seat belt and warily watched his sister drive.

"Not now, Harry! And what kind of stupid arse person would believe two-year old kid could run away?"

"Calm down!"

Her mouth closed with an audible snap and she stared at him.

"Look at the road!"

"I am, I am." She turned back, her turns still a bit too sharp, but visibly calmer. "I just can't believe someone could disregarded something that important to your life like that. How are you not mad?"

He shrugged, "I am mad, but would we even have known if that letter hadn't come? Or if dad hadn't locked the house up? It can't be that important."

"He _lost_ the record that your alive. What if your family tried to find you?"

"_You_ are my sister. Dad_-_obviously- is my father. Mum was my mother. All of you are my family. The people who-if the letter is correct-willingly gave me up are not. I don't hate them or anything, but there of no concern for me."

Cristina rewarded him with a small smile. Harry grinned back and finally relaxed, putting his head against the window. It didn't really matter, anyway, right? So he most likely was this Harry Potter...who cares? That letter had to be a load of shite, a joke, perhaps. Witchcraft and Wizardry...

He scoffed and began picking at the leather seat. Nothing extraordinary ever happened to him. Maybe the occasional lucky moment...gust of wind out of nowhere, his football miraculously curving through the air to make a goal, cards changing their appearance completely so he could win a game of poker...The young man sat up straighter and shook his head. Those had to be flukes...but there was that time that that prat, John's, shoes erupted into flames just after he took them off...no, there has to be a logical explanation for that. Friction?

_'Wait, what is friction, again? Something to do with volcanoes? Maybe, space? Ugh, I should pay more attention science; I'm going to end of living on the streets if I don't get better grades. I'd be all smelly and gross... I could always go to Cristina's for showers though, she has that flowery smelling shampoo...'_

"I'd be the best smelly hobo in London," Harry sighed.

His sister frowned and eyed him, before shaking her head and turning away. "Congratulations."

* * *

Early the next morning the siblings were sprawled out in Cristina's living room, watching the television. Harry had finally gotten out of his football uniform and had simply changed into his pajama bottoms, falling asleep as soon as they had arrived back the last night with Cristina doing likewise. Because of this both had awoken earlier than should have been legal.

With Cristina having no idea when Starbucks opened and Harry not knowing what time McDonald's served breakfast, both collapsed in the living room onto the soft couches. Well, they both had been on the couch until Harry had been shooed off like a dog for eating grapes while sitting on the white material. Of course he considered that stupid because the carpet was also white and grapes weren't even messy, anyway. But, he didn't hold grudges, so, you know, whatever.

"Don't you dare throw that grape at me, Harry!"

Harry quickly moved his hand from the suspicious position and popped the fruit into his mouth. He quickly ate it, scrunched up his nose at the sourness, then put in another one, repeating the process. "So when is Dad supposed to get back?"

Cristina looked out the window, dully noticing the soft glow of the street lights. "The second of September."

"Shouldn't we call him or something?"

She shrugged, "And tell him what? 'Hey Daddy, do you know if Harry is a wizard? Some strange man in a dress seems to think so.' There's not really any point in scaring him."

Harry opened his mouth as if to argue, but slowly shut it and shrugged. He brought a pack of ice onto his black eye, which had repeatably been violated the previous day, and continued to eat his grapes.

"So what do we do if someone comes by like it says in the letter?"

"We don't open the door."

"Ah, simple," he threw a grape into the air and caught it in his mouth. "I like it."

* * *

Hours later, this plan proved to be a bit too simple to actually work. The two stood in the entry hall, a pair of green eyes locked onto the door, a pair of blue onto the chandelier in the connecting room. Both of which were shaking from a thunderous pounding.

"Maybe we should open the door," Cristina whispered, wearily eying the beautiful decoration.

"You go on, then," Harry answered back, taking a cautious step away from it.

"Where is your courage!" She snapped.

"Hiding behind my fear..."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"I don't care!" Harry hissed back. Another round of knocks came, causing the door to rattle and the chandelier to sway dangerously.

Cristina moved behind her brother, "The door is for you, Harry. Answer it!"

He moved further behind her, "This is your home! Answer your door!"

She moved behind him, "Don't you have any macho protective feelings right now!"

"You're the older sibling, here!" Harry made to move again only to see that Cristina was already pressed up against the wall. He glared as she pointed to the door. "Damn!"

He took a few steps forward, watching the door as if it would explode any second.

BOOM!

Which is exactly what it did.

"Shit!" Harry blocked his face with his hands as he moved back and to the side, instantly blocking his sister. He felt a few pricks on his hands and exposed skin and a particularly vicious sting on his eyebrow that he hadn't managed to cover. The remains of the door stopped flying as quickly as they started and Harry felt himself being turned around.

"Oh, God! Harry! I'm so sorry! I didn't know the door was going to explode! I should have gone to answer it! I didn't know! I'm so sorry-are you alright?"

Harry was cut off by answering by a voice and the smell of stale whiskey.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you'd been there."

Harry whipped around, fully prepared to tackle who ever had spoken only to meet someone's chest.

"Holy-"

"Ello there Harry!"

Harry blinked stupidly at the chest in front of him, then slowly looked up past a huge black beard to meet a pair of beady black eyes. "What did you say?"

"Er, ello?"

"You mean, hello?" Harry asked flatly.

"Yeah, that there is what I say, Harry."

"You blow up my door, endanger me and my sister, and all you can say is 'hello there Harry'?"

"Er..."

Maybe it was shock, maybe a piece of wood had somehow gone through his ear and got stuck in his brain, or maybe years of footballs hitting his head had finally gotten to him, but for some reason Harry found himself so angry he didn't care that he was picking a fight with a man who could barely fit himself through the front door.

"'Er?' Oh! Of course! 'Er' explains everything! I mean normally I'd be mad that someone just broke into my home, but when you put it that way I completely understand. How could I be so stupid! 'Er'. It's so obvious."

Instead of blowing up as would have been expected, the huge man blushed and shuffled from foot to foot sheepishly. "Well no one was answerin', and I jus though..."

"You thought! Well there's the root of your problem right there! Normal people will think and come to the conclusion that we aren't home! Maybe then they would leave a note or if desperate wait outside until we come back. They wouldn't blow up the door and just waltz in!"

"Well I though that yeh were bein' 'eld against yer will..."

Harry whipped around and pointed at Cristina who was staring, bewildered, back at the two.

"That girl is the only other person here. She's twenty years old, and I doubt she weighs more than a damn stone."

"Hey!"

"Not now, Cristina." He turned back to the giant man. "How do you suppose she could have kept me against my will? Please, enlighten me so that I can be prepared in the future."

"Well I jus'... I jus'...," the man sniffled and Harry groaned as he saw the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Look, don't cry-"

"I'm jus' so sorry, Harry! I knew tha Professor Dumbledore shouldn't a sent me. I mess ev'rything up!"

"Harry!" Cristina hissed. He turned from the blabbering man and looked helplessly at his sister.

"I don't think I have flood insurance!"

"You don't have flood insurance?"

"We're on the fifth floor! Make him stop crying!"

Harry turned back and slowly reached up pat the man on the shoulder. "Hey, there," he cooed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you, we can buy another door. I was just scared because you almost hurt my sister."

"I-I- I hurt the little lassie!" He burst into another set of tears.

Harry almost jumped back to avoid the falling drops of water, but instead held his ground. "You didn't hurt her, she's perfectly fine," he pointed to her. "No harm done."

"But-but I hurt yeh."

He nearly winced as he remembered the various nicks on his arm and the cut he was sure was above his eye. "Oh, those? ...Those were, uh...those were there before."

The man's sniffling slowed as he looked down to the teenager. "Really?"

"Um, yeah. Football practice, happens all the time."

He nodded and gave a shaky smile. "Oh, that's good. Is that where ya got tha' black eye, too?"

That he actually did get from the twenty year old girl who he doubted weighed more than a stone along with a pair of little girls with a jump rope. Not that he'd admit it. "Rugby game, actually."

"Ah! Rough and tumble kind of guy, eh? You'll be a hell of a Quidditch player."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Not a problem, Harry!

"Right...now who are you?"

"Oh, how could I forget?" He held out a meaty paw. "I'm Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds at Hogwarts."


	5. To the Alley

"Hogwarts?"

Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly, "That's righ'."

Harry shook his head and pointed to the-where the door used to be. "Alright, get out."

"What?"

Cristina moved to stand next to her brother. "This has gone on long enough. Get out."

Hagrid's eyebrows raised as he looked to the doorway. "Oh, are you still upset about the door? I can fix that." He pulled out a pink umbrella from seemingly nowhere.

"This isn't about the-"

"Reparo!"

All of the fallen chips of wood and glass flew from the floor and Harry felt several splinters rip from his arm. A moment later the door was back together in its place, looking no worse for wear than it had an hour ago.

"-Door."

Harry barely registered Cristina slump to the floor.

* * *

Two hours later both sat side by side surrounded by various objects covering the floor of their home. After Cristina had fainted, Hagrid had whipped the umbrella to her and had muttered another word, maybe Latin Harry thought. A pink light shot towards his sister before he could even move and she quickly jerked awake.

Needless to say, both were too shocked to really object when the strange man had walked past them and sat heavily on one of the living chairs. Once they snapped out of their stupor they quickly joined him and the next few hours passed in a blur.

"I can not believe this," Cristina gushed as she held up and previously broken high heeled shoe. Harry didn't bother answering as he was busy playing with the small rubber ball Hagrid had conjured. Along with these two objects, the Browns were surrounded by various sporting goods and more shoes, all previously broken from over use, all thrown in a closet, and now all in perfect condition mixed in with various small objects that the man had conjured out of thin air.

"All right, so-Hagrid, right?" The tall man nodded and Harry continued, enunciating each word with a bounce of the rubber ball on the wall. "So-bounce-, Hagrid,-thud- lets say-bounce, thud-, hypothetically-bounce-, I go with you-thud-bounce-thud- to this wizarding world." Bounce, slap. "Oh! Sorry, Cristina! Anyway, what exactly would we do?"

"Well, we'd prob'ly start out in Gringrot's, the wizarding bank, then we'd go and get yer wand-"

"So I don't have to use an umbrella?"

"No, no. Best keep that 'tween us by the way. So we'd get yer wand, then yer school robes-"

"Robes? Do they look like dresses?"

"Well, er, some of 'em do, actually. Ya could get a differin' style though, and ya can have yer muggle-nonmagical, that is- uniform underneath. Let's see, yer parent's already ordered yer supplies, you'll meet 'em at Hogwarts, by the way-"

"Hogwarts...is that in Scotland?" This time it was Cristina who interrupted.

Hagrid's eyes widened as he looked at her, "Are ya a squib?"

"A what?"

"A-well I suppose that means ya aren't then. Yeah, Hogwarts is in Scotland. How'd ya know that?"

"I don't know. I must have heard it somewhere."

"Huh. I'll have to ask Professor Dumbledore bout that. So, ya ready to go, Harry?"

Harry looked from the cluttered floor to his sister, then back to Hagrid. "I guess..."

"Well we'll be taking an portkey to tha Cauldron, so lets go." Hagrid took a moment to lift himself out of the chair then shuffled to the door. Despite having no clue what he was talking about, Harry followed, but stopped before he lost sight of Cristina.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

She nodded. "I think I've had enough surprises for one day, maybe later."

"Are you going to be alright?"

Cristina glanced at the numerous shoes that she was practically sitting on and nodded. "Yeah. Just bring me back something. A shirt or a snow globe, maybe. Something. Oh, and be careful."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, but shrugged and nodded. "I'll do that. Bye."

* * *

As the giant stranger led Harry down the dark alley, the teen began to think maybe following along wasn't the best idea. But, when he pulled out a rotting banana from his coat pocket and told Harry to hold it, Harry got ready to bolt.

"Come on now, Harry! It's jus' a portkey!"

Harry backed up. "I don't care what sick freaks like you like to call it, I am not touching your banana!"

"Harry! It's a portkey! It will transport us to tha Leaky Cauldron!"

"What is the Leaky Cauldron, anyway?!"

"It's the barrier between Diagon Alley and tha muggle world."

"...Alright. I'm going to assume you're telling me the truth to save me any more trouble. But, I'm still not touching your banana."

"Harry it's jus'-"

"I'm not going to!"

"Harry-"

"No!"

"Jus' bloody take tha-"

"No!

"I-"

"NO!"

* * *

If he had learned one thing with growing up with an uppity, spoiled girl as a semi-mentor and role model, it was how to throw a fit, Harry thought as he lounged in the back seat of a taxi. The streets of London passed by underneath him and its various shops and restaurants flew by the window.

Harry himself was sitting sideways on the seat, head propped up against the window and legs stretched out, bent slightly at the knee because of the lack of space. His favorite running shoes adorned his feet, denim jeans on his hips. His black and gold football jersey (which he had washed all by himself because Cristina would neither touch nor wash his dirty clothes) hung from his rapidly widening shoulders and a chain holding his mother's old engagement ring rested on that. Harry fiddled with said object absently as he looked to the front of the cab, which contained two visibly uncomfortable older men.

"Hey, Hagrid? I hope you aren't still mad about the whole 'thinking you were a child molester thing'." He couldn't see his face, but Harry had a feeling the man had rolled his eyes. "Seriously. I guess I just overreacted." Silence. "I'm really sorry that woman ran in when she heard me and beat you with her umbrella."

He saw his guide cross his arms in defiance. "I'm sorry I made you sit in the front, too. It's just that I'm a bit claustrophobic and I don't think you sitting next to me would be that good...Hagrid?" A barely noticeable sniffle, which was odd considering his size. "Come on, Hagrid. You want some ice cream, Hagrid?" A slight stiffening of the shoulders. "How about we get some ice cream when we're done with all the boring stuff? Would you like that?"

"Could I-could I get tha Salamander bladder flavor?"

"...If that's what you want."

The taxi abruptly stopped. "Alright, we're here."

Harry paid the confused driver and climbed out. Once on the side walk he looked on in disgust at the dingy building in front of him, the worn writing on the hanging sign reading The Leaky Cauldron.

"A pub?"

Hagrid's hand clamped down on his shoulder and pushed him forward. "Not just a pub, Harry."

"Oh, is it an inn, too?" Harry jerked his shoulder out of the hold and walked into the building.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Unlike the unappealing scent of alcohol, peanuts, and puke he was expecting, it was a heavy mix off ash, some sort of tangy fruit drink, spices, and an underlying smell of alcohol.

The second thing was the people. Almost all of them had on the dresses, no the robes, that he had been told about. There were various styles and colors just like Hagrid said, but there was no denying they were all robes. The one couple who had on normal clothes seemed to be together and both shrugged on cloaks before disappearing through a door in the back.

The third thing to hit him was the door as Hagrid bustled in after him.

"Ow!"

And the forth and final thing to hit him was the low fire in the fireplace suddenly burst up, turn green and then spew an old woman out.

"That's just...cool."

Hagrid looked over his head, "Oh, tha floo? Eh, I can never find a fireplace big enough. Ya think someone would make..." he walked off grumbling. Harry shrugged and followed, hearing clips of various conversations.

"Have you seen the new singer for the Weird Sisters? I mean honestly-"

"You'd never think that he would get that far with them. They-

"Are being absolutely insane... Although he is a-

"Sexy-"

"Beast. Lavender has his picture in-"

Harry jerked, then shook his head and moved on. Taking the path past five tables full of school girls probably wasn't the best idea.

"Ello there, Tom."

The bartender showed a toothless grin. "Hello, Hagrid. Going out to the Alley?"

"Yeah. Me and Harry, here." He pulled the teen into sight.

"Merlin! What happened to your eye, lad?"

Harry self-cautiously put a hand over his cut eyebrow, which Cristina had partially covered with a bandage. "It's just a cut..."

"Oh! No offense was meant, young man. Just wondering why you didn't put anything on it. None of my business, anyway. It'll be a nice scar, I'm sure. Go along with the one on your head."

Harry frowned. "Gee, thanks. Sounds a lot better when you put it that way." He turned to Hagrid. "Are we going?"

"Er, yeah. Jus' follow me." He got off the stool and they went out the back door. Harry stared at the brick wall curiously. He had seen a couple go back there earlier, had they scaled it?

The tapping of Hagrid's umbrella caught his attention and he watched as the man stepped back expectantly.

"What are you-"

Before he could ask the bricks in front of them began to fold into themselves, slowly revealing the bustling path behind them.

"Oh."

* * *

"Now remember what I said, Harry. Ya got ta be respectful in there."

"You've told me six times already, Hagrid. I'm not some snot-nosed little kid. I know how to behave," Harry groaned. They were heading to their first stop, Gringots, which was apparently the only wizarding bank in England. So far, every six steps (every two for Hagrid) came with another warning to behave in the marble building. Harry honestly didn't get where the obvious uneasiness came from; they were just bankers, what's the worst they could do? Steal all your money if you don't say please and thank you?

Harry looked around as he dragged his feet across the pebbled road. In front of one shop kids of various ages were clustered around the display window, looking at a _broom_. Another had a cluster of small skulls hanging by the door. People of all ages were at an ice cream shop, which Harry figured he now had to take Hagrid too.

A group of other teenage boys burst out of another shop, gleefully holding up brown paper bags. Harry figured he would check out that store later, but then he saw another group of teens, this time girls, all go into another and he figured he would have more fun trailing them.

Harry stopped his wandering eye as they reached the steps leading to the back and quickly hopped up and strode past the tall doors, Hagrid by his side. He prepped himself up for what seemed to be an imminent grand display...only to see a normal bank.

"What's the big deal, Hagrid?" He looked around, positive he missed something. Except for the obvious difference of people in robes and pointy hats, it seemed no different than his dad's own bank.

"Sir?"

Harry turned to meet the owner of the croaky voice...nothing. He swiveled his head around and still seeing no one, shrugged.

"Sir?"

Harry jumped and took another look around. Where was that coming from?

"Down here, _sir_," the voice snarled.

Harry slowly turned again, then quickly bowed down and studied the bottom of his shoes. Had he stepped on some sort of magical, talking bug? Would that come off of his sneakers? He inspected one foot, then the other and sighed in relief.

"No bugs," he grinned as he looked up-then made a startled gasp as he met a pair of bloodshot yellow eyes.

"Gah!"

He snapped up and shot behind Hagrid, eying the odd, green, midget of a creature that was shooting him a venomous sneer.

"May I help you, sir?" It bit out out.

"Oh my God it just talked."

Hagrid gave a nervous chuckle and groped behind himself in attempt to bring Harry forward. "Eh, Harry? Don't-"

"That thing just talked to me, Hagrid! And it looks like it wants to eat me!"

"Harry! These, uh, brilliant creatures," he glanced fearfully to the green speaker. "Not tha animal kind of creature, of course. Tha kind of equal equality ones tha' are jus' as smart as wizards-if not more so!" Another nervous chuckle. "These goblins run Gringots."

"They run the bank?"

"Yeah, Harry. And they do a right fine job of it, too!" he quickly added with another look to the goblin.

The teen's green eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh, is that why you told me to..?

"_Yes_," Hagrid hissed out of the side of his mouth.

"Oh...well this is pretty awkward then, huh?"


	6. Round the Alley

"You know you could have just warned me!" Harry whispered from the other side of the food shelf in the pet store.

"I thought ya already knew!"

"How was I supposed to know the bank was run by little green men?" Harry glanced the display of pink mouses doing what seemed to be a jig, then kept moving.

"Well yer sister knew a bit abou' Hogwarts. I guess I jus' forgot." Through the shelf Harry could see Hagrid looking longingly at a tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell and that for some reason was kept in a strong glass case.

He pulled the cloak he had bought when getting fitted for robes closer. "I don't know where Cristina heard that, but it's no reason to assume I know anything!"

"Well ya still didn't have ta keep asking what kind of meat they ate!"

Harry stuck his finger into a cage with what seemed to be small blue panthers, then quickly pulled it out when they attempted to bite it off. "Little bastards," he mumbled. He looked to Hagrid. "Things with sharp pointy teeth like to eat meat. Those orcs' mouths were full of them. I was just making sure I wasn't in any danger."

"They don't eat humans! And they're not orcs! They're goblins!"

"Well I wouldn't know that, since no one told me about them!" He shook his head. "Let's just forget it. I think I want to buy a pet."

Hagrid's face immediately brightened. "Ooh! How bout those snow panthers?"

Harry looked to the blue cats that had nearly bitten off his appendage. "No."

"Well, uh, those snakes are pretty neat lookin'."

The raven haired boy remembered the tittering snakes he had passed earlier and shook his head.

"An owl, maybe? Or-don't tell anyone I said this, but they might sell some dark phoenixes in Knockturn Alley. I got a dragon egg there once- "

He tried his best to hide his shock and sighed, "Aren't there any normal-ish animals here?"

"Normal?"

"Yeah. Like a dog or a cat, maybe?"

Hagrid hummed and turned to look around, "Well I wouldn't suggest a kneazle, which are like really smart cats. Bloody boring if ya ask me. There are some crups and albino dogs over there, though."

Harry followed his gaze to the far corner of the store and quickly went over to the assorted cages. Most of the larger canines were all white, but the smallest species were an assorted range of colors.

"What's a crup?"

Hagrid pointed a bloated finger to the small dogs.

"They look just like my friend, Isabella's, dog. What's so special about them?"

"Well they're extremely loyal ta wizards. Most don't get along well at all with Muggles, too. So if ya get one ask for one that isn't so it won't try to gobble up tha lassie. And there's the tail."

Harry moved slightly so he could see the forked tail of the nearest hyper dog. "That's

pretty cool, actually. A bit demonic, but neat. Hmm. Why are these other ones albino?"

"Albino dogs can chase off a bunch of magical pest that'll settle around your house. Mighty useful. I got a black boarhound myself, though, and we get along jus' fine."

Harry studied the tallest of the dogs. "A boarhound, huh? That sounds good." He looked back to the crup. "But so does the little guy..."

"We still got ta get yer wand, Harry. Pick one."

Harry bit his lip as his eyes flew from one canine to the other. "I _don't_ like making decisions..."

* * *

Harry wound the tough black leash around his left wrist for a third time as he attempted to pull his new boarhound closer in the crowded street. His right arm cradled a smaller magical pup to his chest. After all, why make a decision when you can just have everything? And besides, Cristina _did_ say to bring her back something.

Hagrid walked ahead of the teen, leading him to the Ollivander's Wands shop, and effectively clearing a smooth pathway through the crowd for him. The boarhound seemed to be somewhat leashed trained already, as it it was making a half-arsed effort to follow. Hmm, he really should name them...eh, for now he'd just call the big one Big Dog and the little one...Satan? Yeah, Satan. It fit with the wicked tail.

Hagrid took Big Dog and Satan from him as they got to the front door and Harry was sent in by himself.

A small bell chimed as he stepped into the dim and narrow shop. The moment the door closed behind him an elderly white haired man shuffled out of the back. Harry took a cautious step back as the man, Mr. Ollivander probably, stopped just short of colliding with him. The bespectacled man peered intently at him, eyes roaming over his face, before finally landing on his scar. His intense presence melted away, however, as he shook his head bemusedly and held out a hand.

"Mr. Potter, I presume?"

Harry shrugged uneasily as he grasped the gnarled hand, "Brown, technically, but yeah I guess."

"Ah, of course. Brown, Brown, Brown..."

"Um, yeah. Brown." He pulled his hand away.

"You wouldn't happen to know a Ms. Brown would you?"

"Well, yes. I know lots of Ms. Brown's. My sister, cousins, aunts; it's kinda my name. I run into a bunch of them around holidays, unfortunately."

"Right, of course. Pardon me. I'm Ollivander. Now, you didn't come in here to chat did you? Let's find you a wand."

Ollivander moved to one of the many shelves and quickly pulled out a long, thin wooden box. He delicately opened it and pulled out a dark wand.

"Give this a wave."

The moment Harry touched it several dangerous looking sparks flew out wildly.

"My eye!" Harry distantly felt the object being snatched out of his hand.

"Hmm, that won't do. That won't do..."

Fortunately, nothing else would Harry in the eye that day. Unfortunately finding a wand to a lot longer than either of them seemed to anticipate. After ten minutes and after 6 wands the first family with a new Hogwarts student came in. Another five minutes and another family came. An hour later and Harry could barely move his arm enough to wave the wands.

"Hurry up!"

Harry growled at the unknown voice in the crowd. "I'm doing the best I can!"

"Well either find a wand or admit your a bloody squib and get out of here!"

Despite not knowing what a squib was Harry whipped around in a vain effort to find the owner. Somehow he quickly found the owner, a sneering stick of a man, and hollered back.

"How about this bloody squib goes back there and puts his bloody foot up your bloody-"

"Bring it on you sack of-"

"Try this one, Mr. Potter. Vinewood with dragon heartstring. Twelve and a half inches."

Harry snatched the wand from Ollivander, who to his slight amusement had been looking positively giddy. Without even bothering to wave it he turned around and chucked it at the rude man. To his disappointment, it missed his hair by centimeters and went neatly into the shelf above him.

"Give me another!"

The shopkeeper popped up next to him. "Here you go. Ash with a Siren's vocal-"

Harry tossed it and smirked as it grazed the man's cheek.

"Is that the best you got you little-!"

"Almost...Got anything else like it?"

"You know I think you would have been a better match for the holly one I had to give your brother. A pity you weren't there to claim it. Hmm...how about this. Jarrah with a Siren's vocal cord. Eleven inches."

Harry snatched it up and, taking a small notice of the buzzing his hand felt from the contact, threw it.

"Bloody hell! MY EYE!"

"I'll take that one, please." After stuffing the required amount of wizarding money Hagrid had given him into the man's hand he quickly ran to the nearly crying man who was huddled on the floor and picked up his new wand. Even through his sniffles the man managed to sneer as Harry turned his back to him.

"About bloody time, you poof."

For a moment Harry prepared to walk out the door. His professors always told him to be the better man whenever he could. Though, they probably weren't his professors anymore were they?

He spun around and kicked the man in the leg. "Your mum's a squib." Harry then proceeded to get lost in the crowd and get out the door before the man realized he could use magic to kick his arse.

* * *

It was easy to find Hagrid's massive form settled on a bench once Harry got out of the shop. The crup, Satan, was prancing around on his massive chest and Big Dog, or B.D., was sitting on the ground, head constantly swiveling from side to side as he watched everyone pass.

Harry walked up and hesitantly patted the possible giant's shoulder. "Hey, I'm done. Are you awake?"

A wet snore was his answer. Harry shook his head as he picked up Satan and grabbed B.D.'s leash. These wizard people make a huge fuss over finding him, then when they do they send a huge, clutzy, whiskey smelling, falling asleep on the job man to take care of him and introduce him to the secret world? Insane.

Satan squirmed in his arm and sloppily licked his face.

"Ugh." Despite his disgust he looked fondly at the black and brown face of the mostly white dog then to the white one at his feet. "You're lucky you're better company at least. I wouldn't let Hagrid slobber on my face and get away with it." He looked around and spotted a pair of pretty twins about to walk past him. "Would let them, though."

The one on the left, closest to him, glanced up, then smiled.

"What an adorable puppy!" She squealed as she headed towards him, pulling along her sister who had her arm linked with the other. The other cooed as she saw the dogs. "_Ahh_."

Harry couldn't help but let loose a small smirk as the first twin stroked the crup that was cradled to his chest and the second leaned down slightly to pet the one at his feet.

"I'm Parvati," said the one whose attention was on 'Satan'.

"Harrison." He grinned. Who needed talking snakes and phoenixes?


	7. The Twins

"So," the Indian girl flashed a disbelieving grin. "Your Merlin's twin brother."

"I am Merlin's twin brother," Harry repeated. He twirled his spoon around his ice cream and looked unwaveringly back at the sisters.

"Merlin's twin brother," the other girl, Parvati, shook her head. "You don't really look alike...and what are the chances of someone actually having a long loss twin brother?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. An hour earlier he had met the Patils while they fawned over his new dogs. That had naturally been followed by a brief and friendly conversation and that by walking to the ice cream parlor. Now they were sitting outside at the umbrella covered round tables with B.D. and Satan sitting beside them. Well, B.D. was sitting; Satan was switching between pouncing onto the girls' laps and biting at Harry's ankles.

"What are the chances that some kid from muggle Kensington is actually a wizard?"

She thought for a moment then rolled her eyes. "Pretty well apparently...," she mumbled.

"So, what does he look like?"

"Well for one thing, Merlin has dark red hair. And it doesn't stick out in ten different directions like yours- in a cute way of course," she reassured at Harry's frown. "He does have green eyes like yours. He's a bit taller than you and a bit thicker. He is the Ravenclaw beater after all."

Harry nodded in understanding. One of the first things that Harry had asked was what the advertisements for brooms were about. They had responded that they flew them for games like Quidditch; yes witches and wizards really flew broomsticks; no those pictures in muggle story books are actually of hags; yes they really eat children; no Harry you're too big to be eaten; and no Harry we're not calling you fat.

"They do have the same mannerisms, though," Padma cut in. "Merlin has that annoying habit of picking at his food and talking for nearly all of the meal time. Then he'll shove as much as possible down his throat when he realizes we have two minutes left and whine about being hungry later. It's the same pattern, everyday, without fail."

"Harry looks like he's doing the same thing, doesn't he?"

Harry scowled, "I do not. I was just pacing myself." He took his first two bites of his French Vanilla to prove his point, then immediately closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"You shouldn't eat that fast, you'll get a head-"

"Thank you, Parvati."

Harry opened his eyes to see Padma with a slight frown. "I don't sound like her."

"Of course you don't, my mistake." Harry moaned as he rubbed his temples.

Parvati smiled, "Maybe you should just take that home."

"I think I'll do that. What were you saying, Padma?"

"Oh, right. You both do that and the way you walk is exactly the same."

"How do I walk?"

"It is like a mix of a strut and a swagger. It's as if you think you own the world and at the same time you're too lazy to do anything about with it so you let it run on its own."

"Or like you're the best in the pack but you're letting everyone else think they're as good," Parvati added.

"So I look powerful, but modest." Harry grinned.

"Or you look cocky and as if you are trying to hide it," Parvati said cheekily.

"That's a more negative way to say it."

"I'm just being honest."

"Well there's honest and then there's just being criti-"

Padma knocked on the table, interrupting them. Her twin gave an endearing pout as the Ravenclaw drew to a stop and put her hand to the side of her head in mock exasperation.

Harry felt something twist in his gut as he watched the two. As cheesy as it seemed, even to his own eyes, the twins movements seemed to go in slow motion. Padma's bangles slid slowly down her wrist, the gold shining against her bronze skin and each chime as they collided echoing. Parvati's pout turned into a smile and suddenly a brisk wind picked up, blowing the wisps of hair around her face wildly about. She raised a slim arm to shield her eyes and groaned.

Harry blinked rapidly as Padma laughed and time put itself right again.

"Sweetie, I think your romance charm is acting up again," Padma said gaily as she grabbed her sister's wrist in one hand and brought out a steel nail file from her pocket with the other. She immediately began scratching away at one dangling piece.

"I knew I shouldn't have bought anything from that old hag at the market! There's no way a good charm could be that cheap."

"Charm?"

"They're small trinkets you can collect on a bracelet," Padma explained without looking up from Parvati's wrist. "Runecrafters shape them and enchanters can put special charms on them. This one wasn't shaped right so it's effects are pretty much shite."

"So far I have a lucky charm, an anti-blemish charm, a joy charm, a tranquility charm, and of course this stupid romance charm." Parvati counted each off with the fingers of her free hand. "You can't have too many or else it will start messing up your spell casting, but I saw it and figured I still have a few to go before anything would actually happen."

"Is the romance charm supposed to act like a love spell or something?"

She raised her left eyebrow. "It would be called a love charm if it did that. It just creates stupid little effects. You know, the sparkle in the eyes, the wind in the hair. But when it messes up and the wind hits you unexpectedly, it really stings your eyes." She rubbed at her eyes to prove her point. "Oh, well. It's more of a joke, really. Although, I suppose a knight in shining armor bloke might fall for it."

Harry nodded slowly and chuckled. "It causes slow motion too, huh?"

"Slow motion?" Padma sat up and put the small nail file she had been scratching away at the bracelet with on the table. "I'm doing a project on runes this semester and there's actually no rune that can do that, and I've never heard of an enchantment that could. Just a couple of really powerful spells."

"It would be pretty wicked, though," Parvati added as she fingered a charm. "You fix it?"

"Yes, I think so. Whoever put that rune on it had shaky hands." She paused and her face took on a blank look. "What had I been doing? Oh, right." She once again knocked on the table. "You two have known each other for barely two hours and you're already bickering like children."

"I'm not a child," Parvati muttered. Harry took on a similar blank face, then snapped his fingers.

"I was about to ask something before you interrupted us. What I really want to know is-" He cleared his throat. "Who is the cute twin? Me or him? Think carefully. Answer honestly."

* * *

"Cristina!" Harry shuffled awkwardly, his arms weighed down with shopping bags and the small krup that was cradled between his left upper arm and his chest. His new wand was settled in his back pocket and his white bloodhound was sitting obediently by his side.

"Cristina!" Harry sighed and gave a quick look around. When he was sure no one was coming up the stairs he quickly banged his head against the door.

"Just what are you doing, Brown?"

Harry spun his head so quickly his neck cracked. "Where did you-"

The old woman scowled at him and shook her walking stick in his direction. "If you hadn't been making all that noise you could have heard me coming. You must think you're at a football game with your hooligan friends. Just like you were back in primary school."

The teenager fought a primal need to growl at his former teacher, "I'll try to keep it quiet, Mrs. Berry. I didn't realize you lived here."

Only one of her hazel eyes squinted as she shook her head. "Like hell you didn't. You pay attention to every thing. You may not have been the one to cause most of the trouble, but I'd eat my cane if you hadn't known before hand about every single spitball-"

"Ma'm, I don't-"

"Every single bogey on the chalk board, every single braid dipped in paint-"

"Mrs. Berry it's been six years-"

"-and every single dead lizard in my desk. You may not have been the cause but I know you knew and were just ignoring it for your own amusement."

Harry waited for a second tirade and continued when none came. "Mrs. Berry, it's been six years. Can't we get past this? You can not peg every single prank on me. It's unethical."

"Like hell I can't! You could have been like your sister. Even now she goes out of her way to be kind. Taking you into her home when you have no place to go. I hope you thank her everyday for this."

Harry bit his tongue to avoid saying that the only thing that was different between them was that Cristina actually caused the trouble while he just observed it and that Cristina wasn't even paying for her 'home' with her own money.

"I do so every morning. Right when she comes home from volunteering at the shelter to change into her wet suit so she can go save the baby dolphins. Then I go to church to pray that one day I may blessed to be as self sacrificing as she is. It hasn't happened yet, in fact I seem to care less and less about the elderly and the clubbing of baby animals every day, but with enough commitment maybe-"

"Shut your trap. You are truly a lost cause," she sneered. She hobbled to the staircase. On the second step she called back, "If you want to knock on the door, how about you put the bags down instead of causing further injury to your head."

Harry waited until her white head was no longer visible before dropping the bags in his right hand and knocking on the door. Bitch. Hopefully there weren't going to be any psycho, Harry hating professors at Hogwarts.

It wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming towards the door from inside the flat. And unless Cristina had gained a few stones since he had left, it wasn't her. Harry's left arm moved slightly away from his body and Satan fell into one of the bags with a yelp just before the door opened.

His eyes widened. "Pop! What are you doing here? I didn't think you were going to be home for a week!...Oh, wait." Harry smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry. How are you, Mike?"

The man's face screamed irritation, but he managed a tight smile. "I'm fine, Harry. I don't mean to pester you, but I must ask; I've been seeing Cristina for a few weeks now and you make that mistake nearly every time I see you-"

"Oh, it's just a passing resemblance. You see, our father is just reaching that age where dying your gray hair looks pathetic. So, I'm just now seeing the gray hair right here," he pointed to his hair line. "Like where yours was when I first met you. I know you've dyed your hair since then, but first impressions always stick in my mind. Anyway, whenever I see you I always think 'Oh, Pop must have started dying his hair again. He really shouldn't do that, it makes him seem like a creepy old geezer trying to score a younger piece of meat. But, I am very happy to see him.' But, then I realize that it's just you and the happiness part goes away."

There was a moment of silence as Harry gathered his bags and wrapped B.D.'s leash around his wrist.

"Well! Where is my twenty year old sister?"

Mike coughed, "She's, uh, she's in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"Not in her bedroom?"

"No, no she's in the kitchen."

Harry gave a winning smile, "That's great." He finally moved inside the doorway, roughly shoving the man to the side and forward so they switched places. "Well I'm going to go to the kitchen to see my fully dressed and happy sister. I assume you're leaving since your shoes are at the doorway and you're in the hall."

A peek of a back bone finally surfaced. "Look, me and Cristina are in a relationship and I will not be bossed around by her little-"

B.D. growled at the suddenly threatening structure and Harry swiftly kicked a pair of loafers out the door and into the hall.

"Tell her I'll call."

"Don't fall and break your hip on the stairs."

He slammed the door. What was with this trend of old people messing with his life?

* * *

"Does it not bother you that your boyfriend most likely gave Pop swirlies in secondary school?"

"Would it bother you to not try to scare any man you see me around?"

"Does it no bother you that your dating someone who looks like your father? That's disgusting! I wouldn't be caught dead dating someone who looked like my mum."

"He does not look like Daddy! He's just older than my usual men."

"Necrophilia is a crime!"

"Harry!"

"Fine. Fine. Well, does it not bother you that that 'man' is scared of a fourteen year old boy and his dog?"

Cristina took a sip from her wine glass and nodded, "That does bother me actually."

"As it should."

"And while we're on that subject, I can't believe you bought a dog on a whim."

"Dogs," Harry absently corrected as he slid onto the couch next to her. "Why do you get to drink wine over here and I'm not allowed to eat grapes?"

"What do you mean 'dogs'?

"Dogs. As in plural. As in two. As in-oh!" He squinted at his mountain of shopping bags, then pointed. "Open that one with the black and silver stripes."

"The one that's moving?" Cristina gave her brother a wary look, but stood and walked over to said bag. She held each side of the bag gingerly, before quickly opening it. A blur of white and brown shot out. Cristina gave a yelp and fell back on her butt with a thump. "What the hell, Harry!"

"Satan's the hell."

"What?!"

Harry made several grasps in the air to try and catch the dog that was running laps around the furniture. B.D. raised his head slightly from Harry's foot and turned to follow the krup's progress. As it approached its tenth lap, B.D. shot out and caught the scruff of Satan's neck in his mouth.

"Thanks, boy." Harry scratched the bloodhound behind the ear and picked up the krup with the other. He went to stand over Cristina. "It's not quite as smart as mine, but it is cute."

The blue eyed girl reached up and grabbed the small dog. She cradled the squirming animal to her chest and it quickly calmed down. She gave a small bewildered smile. "I said to get me a snow globe."

"Technically, you said 'bring me something back. A snow globe. Whatever.' A magical dog fits into the 'whatever' category." He grinned. "And come on. You know you can't resist cute, small, furry animals. You're too much a girl."

She sighed, "What's its name?"

"Satan."

"Harry-"

"Look at his tail! Someone will come by to clip it off in about a week when it's old enough to lose it. Besides, Satan is just a holding name. It's your dog."

"I can't believe I let you buy me a demonic dog. How about Damien?"

"How about Lucifer?"

"How about _Damien_?"

"Damien is good," Harry quickly agreed. "Anyway it trained to act differently around non magical people and magical people. As you can see it's nice and calm with you and it acted like it was on speed around me. That way you can know if the situation ever comes up."

"Will it ever come up?"

"I doubt it. But it can't hurt to be prepared, can it? Oh, I got you something else to." To Cristina's shock he dived into another bag, his torso disappearing in the supposedly small area. He came out gasping for breath, but looking otherwise pleased. He held out a slim black box.

"Some girls I'll be going to school with helped me pick it out."

"You've already met girls?"

He grinned. "_And_ I found out I was the cute twin. It was great."

Her giggle died out as her eyes widened. Harry felt a sense of pride as she beamed.

"A charm bracelet? Harry it's gorgeous! You didn't have to get me all these things!"

Harry gave a mocking frown. "I can do what I want." He helped her with the clasp and fixed it on her wrist. His eyes lingered on each charm that he had rigorously picked out and emptied his pockets for. All designed to help make a person's life even better. Happier. Safer.

"Just promise me you'll never take it off and we're even."


	8. The Platform

For the first time in the last few weeks, the weather was flawless. Just the right amount of clouds to block a large portion of glare of the sun hung on the crisp blue sky. The cool breeze offset the heat of the summer. In a park plopped in the center of South Kensington, the breeze also brought with it the pleasing aroma of grilled meat and fresh fruit.

Harry deeply inhaled the scent, then tossed a worn baseball to his companion.

"Boarding school?" Joseph Keener gave a small shake of his head as the ball smacked the middle of his glove. "What the hell did you do, mate?"

"For once, nothing. It's a 'privilege', not a punishment."

Joseph gave a small grunt as he chucked the ball back. "Months living with your teachers, under their constant watch. Ugh, I would kill myself."

Harry scowled. "I'm really glad we're having this talk. It's putting me at ease like you wouldn't believe."

"I'm just saying," he responded with a dismissive shrug. "I bet Cristina's more wound up than you."

"Unfortunately."

Joseph snorted.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"'Unfortunately'? Harry, I know it's tearing you up. You'd sooner eat your foot than disappoint Cristina."

"Shut up."

"You know what I mean. Cristina's loved playing mother to both of us since we were kids and we've both loved the attention. Although, you know, my love was a bit more perverted-"

"Can we ever have a conversation about Cristina that doesn't end in you babbling about how hot she is?"

He held up his hands submissively. "If you could see her without a brother's view, you would understand. And while we're on the subject, that cousin of yours- oh and that aunt with the Italian accent-just wow...," he trailed off airily with a smile tugging at his lips.

"Were you going to make a point?"

He frowned, "I don't quite remember..." He shrugged and threw the baseball. "How did your dad even sign you up for it, anyways? He's not coming back for weeks, right?"

"One of the professors actually flew all the way out to meet him on one of the islands the ship stopped at. Professor Sinistra, I think he told me. Apparently she got him really excited about the school."

"Huh...I'm going to bored as hell without you here, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Harry gave a solemn nod. Joseph rarely liked to let know people know he actually liked him, so it meant more than it seemed to mean. The first month that he had met Isabella it had consisted mainly of him pulling hair and poking at her like they were ten years old again.

Harry snapped his glove closed. "I'll be back for holidays so I'll be sure to see you then. We're probably going to go to Italy during Yule. Want to see if you can go with us?"

"Hell yeah if your aunt's going to be-"

The green eyed teenager groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "You know, I think I'll actually be needing some private family bonding with my dad and Cristina by then. Maybe some other time."

_

* * *

_

_"Now you mind your sister."_

_The airport was a moving, breathing creature that day and Harry found himself continuously taking small steps forward, back, left and right to avoid getting knocked over by wayward suitcases rolling after their owners. The man in front of him had no problems. He was nearing fifty, with a broad face, graying hair and tanned skin. Despite his clothing, consisting of sandals, shorts, and a small silver stud in his left ear, he produced such an aura of power and control that even the inanimate luggage seemed to keep a respectful distance._

_"I will, Pop. I always listen to Cristina."_

_"Harrison-"_

_"I will be the perfect little brother."_

_The elder gave a small shake of his head and briefly rubbed his son's head. "At least try and give me the impression that you're telling the truth."_

_"I'm trying my best, here." He grinned. "I'm serious, Pop. You know how much I hate upsetting her."_

_The object of their conversation stood a few yards away with their father's bags, along with his companion. Chelsea? Charity? Harry couldn't quiet remember._

_"Well, you know the basic rules, son. No sneaking into the house and throwing parties, call your uncle if anything happens, have someone film all your football games and we'll watch them when I get back. Um, what else..."_

_"You'll miss your flight if you go through the whole list. Trust me, I've got it covered."_

_"I suppose you do. I'll call you when we land and two days from today we go on the boat." He took off his black Fedora hat, the one that always reminded Harry of old gangster movies, and fiddled with the hem. "As soon as the cruise is done I have to go to Rome for a business deal but I'll be able to call you from there, alright?"_

_"Alright."_

_"Here," he placed the hat on Harry's black locks and pulled it down to a slight tilt. "It doesn't really match with the Jamaican attire. Take care of it, it's my lucky hat. I pulled together some of my greatest business deals in it."_

_Harry briefly had an image of his father conducting business with the hat, along with a crowbar and a Italian accent similar to the ones from his mother's side of the family. "Alright, Pop." _

_He nodded and looked to the two women standing near. "And remember what I said about your sister." He wrapped an arm around the teen's shoulder, smiled adoringly at his daughter and hissed out of the side of his mouth, "You know how she...**gets** when she's stressed. Watch out."_

* * *

"I should run your arse down! Move!"

Harry sunk farther into his seat, his head becoming nearly level with the dashboard. Granted, the street in front of the train station was busy, but his sister was blowing everything a bit out of proportion.

"You jaywalking bastard. What do you think the crosswalk is for?"

"Cristina, that woman is using a walker."

"So she should have free reign over the street? As if!" She honked her horn.

Harry sunk even lower and put the black hat he had been carrying on his lap onto his head, pulling it low over his eyes in a fruitless attempt to shield himself. From the backseat, B.D. gave a pitiful whine.

* * *

She had been fine yesterday. Just last night they had gone out to dinner with Joseph, Isabella, and Harry's junior football coach, Miguel. While Harry didn't like the idea of his sister dating anybody, introducing her to the Spanish man seemed like a better alternative to her dating a corpse. And according to Isabella, Miguel was 'excruciatingly gorgeous' and his accent was 'like an angel's song'. He wasn't really sure if that were true, but he knew Miguel was a nice guy so it would be an improvement. Cristina had been practically giddy afterwards. But all traces of happiness seemed to have drained.

Though, the young woman's subtle growls were surprisingly effective at clearing a path for Harry to push his luggage through. It was helpful, but Harry figured he should do something before she scalped or bit someone.

The moment they stopped walking Harry let go of the loaded trolley, got behind his sister and wrapped his arm around her as if he were going for a headlock. She squealed, he laughed and moved his arms to wrap around her shoulders, squeezing and lifting her off her feet for a brief moment before setting her back on the ground.

"Harry, I will hurt you!"

"Nah, I'm too adorable and sweet. The moment you turn around you'll be so lost in my emerald puppy dog eyes any thoughts of harming me will fly away."

Her heel hit his shin with a solid thump.

"Oi! I guess that doesn't quite work if you don't turn around." He grasped her shoulders, spun her around, and widened his green eyes.

"You look like a fish, Harry," she sighed as her lips twitched.

"But, am I an adorable fish?" He batted his eyelashes.

She smiled, "As much as one can get."

"Well that's all that matters." Harry gave a contented nod. Crisis averted; no one was getting scalped that day.

"So..I think I'm supposed to walk through that wall. Seriously, Parvati told me," he added at his sister's incredulous stare.

"Maybe she just wanted to see if you actually ran into a wall at her advice."

Harry scoffed, "I barely know her, there's no way someone could want to cause me bodily harm that quickly."

"I wouldn't assume so easily, Harry."

"Ha, ha," Harry replied sarcastically. He shook his head and turned to the brick wall. It _did_ look like a solid brick wall, but so did the entrance to the Alley. 'Just walk right through it,' she had said. Harry glanced back the smirking brunette behind him, looked at the wall, then quickly shot out his hand.

"Ow." His knuckles scraped the rough bricks and a pain shot through his bones. Not three feet away, a pretty blond about his age stopped, and gave him the most intense 'you're such an idiot' look he had _ever_ received.

"Er..."

She rolled her eyes, "Wrong wall, dumbass." With that she flicked her hair over her shoulder, picked up a bag with a label of Zabini, and walked to the opposite archway. Harry blinked owlishly as she went straight through.

"What a bitch."

"She pulls it off well, though," Harry replied to he new, but familiar, voice automatically. However, the moment the words left his mouth his neck muscles clinched up at the thought of how familiar the girl's voice was.

_"Yeah, Hogwarts is in Scotland. How'd ya know that?" "I must have heard it from somewhere-"_

_"You wouldn't happen to know a Ms. Brown, would you?"_

_"And while we're on the subject, that cousin of yours-"_

Harry squeezed his eyes closed as is if to prevent in unpreventable. What were the chances? Like one in a thousand? It couldn't be. But even as he tried to reason with himself his sister squealed behind him, crushing all hope.

"Lavender!"

Damn. What did I do wrong? What the hell, Karma? What did I do?!

He spun around slowly, biting his tongue as the blond came into view. This girl (if she was indeed human) had once shaved the sides of his head in his sleep. He had once colored the tips of her yellow hair green with markers during her sleep. She had put lipstick on his action figures. He had thrown her dolls (which were entirely different from his action figures) into the toilet. She put a hole in his favorite autographed football. He took every opportunity he had to push her in the mud.

She was the most distance cousin of his he had met (their family lines split at their great-great grandfather) and yet she was the most common one appearing throughout his childhood. And now here she was again. God had a malicious sense of humor. _Lavender Brown was a bloody witch_?

The blue eyed demon turned to him and spread her arms out as if to engulf him.

"Harrison!"

Harry's face split into a charming grin as he too spread his arms and walked into her hug.

"Hey Lavender!" Damn, damn, damn!

"Wow!" She exclaimed as she finished the hug and backed up, one of her elbows digging painfully into Harry's side as she did so. "I saw you two over here, but I couldn't believe you were looking for the Hogwarts Express! Are you a wizard, Harry?!"

He noticed her outfit. A muggle uniform which could be worn under or, if it was warm, instead of school robes. On her chest pocket was a tiny Gryffindor crest which Parvati Patil had had stitched onto her bag in Diagon Alley, giving it away. _This was really happening_. "Yeah, yeah I am. My biological parents were-are magic. You know the Potters?"

"Yes, why?" She stared blankly at him.

He swallowed the urge to snap at her. "That's them."

"That's them who?"

"They're my parents, Lavender."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh! How...quaint..." She looked around for a moment, as if not sure how to proceed.

"You don't have to pretend you care."

She beamed, "Of course, I care. I just want to save this talk for later. Anyway-" She looped her left arm with Cristina's, and grabbed Harry's wrist with her right hand, digging her nails in as she sent him an annoyed glare. Harry simply shook his head and wrapped B.D.'s leash around his free wrist while grabbing his trolley

"Let's go to the platform." She smiled at Cristina then dragged them both through the wall.

* * *

Harry managed to repress his feral sneer until Lavender Brown walked away. The moment he let it out at her back, he was reproached by Cristina.

"Cut it out, Harry!"

"She is evil, Cristina! You just never see her!" He gestured frantically at the blond. "Just watch closely at her face. You'll see a flash of her true form. It looks just like Ghost Rider."

"Harry quit it!"

"Just don't look into her eyes or she'll steal your soul! I've seen it happen!"

"Harry!" She quickly slapped down his pointing finger. "When you were five she was secretly the boogeyman. At seven she was a vampire. At ten she was possessed by the devil. And now four years later she's the Ghost Rider? Seriously Harry. Get over this silly little feud."

"I'm not saying she's The Ghost Rider, just that they look sim-just nevermind." He glanced at the large clock on the brick wall opposite the train. It was almost time to go.

Cristina followed his gaze and instantly became more demure. "I guess you need to get on the train."

"Yep.." He scratched the back of his neck. "Well...I'll write tomorrow and tell you about everything that happens."

"Alright." She bit the inside of her cheek and began roll back and forth on her heels.

Harry unconsciously began mimicking her movements and quickly stopped when he realized what he was doing. He looked left and right, then quickly reached forward and pulled his sister into a hug.

"I'll miss you," he mumbled into her shoulder after a moment. Cristina pulled back, smiled, and gave him a quick peck on the side of his head.

"I'll miss you, too."

Harry smiled back and pulled out of the hug. "Miguel number is in my black notebook. He gave it to me in case there was an emergency and I needed his help or something, but I seriously doubt he'll care if you use it. Not that I'm encouraging you to date or anything."

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry hummed in response as he picked up his suitcases. "He's also in culinary school, so he knows how to cook pretty well. F.w.i."

"I got the hint, Harry."

He grinned. "What hint?"

She rolled her eyes, "It must have just been my imagination." She bent to scratch B.D. between the ears, then stood and gave him another quick hug. "Goodbye, Harry."

"Bye, love you." He gave her one last smile, turned and walked to the train.


End file.
